A Memory of Rain
by Sage Kaley
Summary: (AxelxNamine? Pre-CoM) She was always alone, no past and no future. No memories and no feelings, except pain. There was only the storm clouds and the rain to keep her company. No one cared, no one wanted her. Until him.


**Notes:** This came from a writing practice that focused on rain. Rain, Namine and Axel. I like that combo personally. It's my take on her past so don't get too serious about this. Just read and enjoy it as it is ok?

Grass was sparse in this land of twilight, poking out weakly from the concrete and brick that took up much of the area. In this part of town, there were only brick houses and brick alleyways and other fancy brick buildings cluttered around and spiraling towards a grand clock tower in the distance. There was one place at the end of town, where barren fields clashed with decaying cement, where people rarely wandered. It was here that a house stood and went unfinished and abandoned like the girl who sat by it. Sat against it, leaned on it, clung to it like it was the only thing tying her to earth. Tying her to a reality that she didn't want nor didn't understand. One she didn't remember or even felt like she was apart of. The only thing keeping her there was the shattered brick and the rain. The boundless rain that came as a freezing ice from the slate colored clouds above. Rain that knew neither foe nor friend, only pain. Only hate. Only anguish. It pierced her skin, slashed her soul and kept her alive, kept her conscience and aware of her heartache.

Rain. Like nothing she'd seen before was falling now. Tears, falling, everything was falling. Did it matter? Wet, cold, alone. She was alone. Always alone. Always? Since when? Time didn't matter, it always rained. Things stayed the same, the rain always fell like tears from heaven, the tears running down her face. Why did she cry? What was the point? Points, a pencil point, her art. That art was important, why though? Art was in her blood, in her soul, echoing and screaming to be released onto paper and live. It _was_ her. She was art. She was a muse, a witch who's medium and magic flowed through lead. That art, that paper, that pencil, the only outlet for her pain, her sorrow, her angry, her hate. Why hate? Hate was important, she had to hate. She had the right to hate. The rain wouldn't stop falling, flowing, engulfing her until nothing was left. It would always fall. The girl would sit against this brick wall forever, watching it fall, watching the droplets splatter against the ground, exploding as their freefall ended. Falling, always falling. Everything fell, even angels. Even their tears. It always ended, always fell. Things would end but the rain wouldn't. It would never end.

No one ever noticed her, with her tattered dress the color of a dying sun, bland and drab in comparison to her golden hair that clung desperately to her pale cheeks. Her quivering frame that shrunk against the icy, sharp bricks cutting her skin. Long, thin legs that were pulled up to her young chest in a fruitless effort to conserve heat. She shook, trembled and cried. She did not sob or moan or scream. Instead she laid her head on her knees and weep silently, rain and tears mixing down her delicate chin. The rain really did never stop, just as the sun never fully set. There were always glimmers of his rays, trying to pierce through the rolling storm clouds. Glimmers of hope. False hope. There was no hope here. Only the gray, throbbing pain that flickered in her dull sky eyes. Even in her eyes, the color of the heavens, there was gray.

Alone. What did that even mean? To be without people? There were people, she had seen them before. Not that she knew them. Not that they cared to know her. They walked past, she blended with the misery around her. They saw nothing but a nasty puddle. So they avoided her. Stepped over her. No one stayed. So she was alone. Alone with her wall. Had she always been alone? She couldn't remember anything, except this. Sitting here in the rain, with the brick cutting her skin. Did she even have a voice? She'd never used it. A name flitted through her empty mind, she knew she had one. It was Namine. Last name? No such thing. Family? What was that? Such a strange word. Family, friends, no such thing. There wasn't a definition for those words. They didn't exist. Alone. That was all she knew. In their absence she was alone. Always alone? How long had she been here? Did it always rain? Yes it did…and the sun never set and the days never ended…rain and time, always eternal. Like her time here, against the wall, with the rain and the clouds.

"Are you the witch girl Namine?" A voice. Words. Not hers at all, in fact they were male in origin. Lifting eyes, staring away from the plain cement under her to the dreary skies above. There stood a man, cloaked in darkness, absorbed by it, radiating it. His robes were pure black, his hood shadowing his face from any who looked.

"…Yes." Ah so that was her voice. Trembling, soft, barely audible and yet so warm, warmer than the rain that seeped into her heart.

"I see…" He leaned closer, moving a black gloved hand across her face, sending a chill through her as he pushed away some of her hair. "I like your eyes, no need to hide them through all this hair."

"…Thank you." Namine blinked those very eyes at him in confusion.

"Come on kid…if you're Namine then I know where we can go. I've got a nice place for you." There was something odd in his voice. A grin? No, darker, a smirk, yes that was the word. "Here…" His hand leveled with her gaze. "Go on, take it." He said, noting that she did not move from her curled up position. "Why not, what have you got to lose?" A point, different than her pencils, different than the things she created with it. This was a point well taken. There was nothing to lose here, nothing to gain. Only to watch the immortal rains that spilled endlessly from the dark heavens above. That was her fate, her life. There was nothing to lose from it. Long, elegant fingers grasped the black leather glove. Nothing to lose, nothing to gain, except escape from the rain and tears.

His hand lifted and she felt her muscles cry in surprise from this sudden movement. Her legs shook beneath her; she wobbled and fell against him with a soft thump. His arm held her steady, steady against his chest, deep in his warmth. Had there ever been such warmth? Like a fire had been lit, the first fire ever lit by the very first primitive humans that had dared peek from their caves and wonder if they could defy the rain. The rains that kept them locked away and cold. Then they discovered that fire and the rain grew weak and heat spread through their veins for the first time. This was heat, this was warmth.

"Hey careful…" He muttered, pushing her away yet keeping one hand on her shoulder to help sturdy her trembling frame. "Guess you've been out in the rain too long, you're probably sick." Yes, too long, far too long in the rain…her eyes searched for his but she couldn't see through the darkness. "Geez you idiot, if you die of a cold I'm in deep shit."

"Who are you?" She whispered her voice as light and gentle as air. He paused, pulling off his trench coat and at last his hood fell away. Sharp, dangerous spikes of blood red hair were pulled back, some strands falling across a mischievous young face. His green eyes like a fox, cunning and cruel with a wild smile that was aimed at her, staring her down like prey. He wrapped the cloak around her and she nuzzled into it without hesitation, feeling the traces of his heat inside. It blocked the rain and kept her safe. Suddenly she became aware of her skin again, a faint tingling working through her limbs. Glancing back towards him, waiting for her answer, she saw that even without the coat he still wore all black.

"Me? I'm just a lackey." He chuckled and gave her a soft push. She walked forward, walked with him, the strange man with the calculating eyes that sized her up instantly. "You're pretty weak. You shouldn't show it so easily. Don't hunch over either, makes you look like some dog cowering away from its master." The wild man paused again and sighed with annoyance. "It never stops raining here does it?"

"…It always rains…always falling…always alone…always cold…" She rambled softly but he had heard her and a glint came to his eyes.

"That's interesting, what do you think rain is?"

"Rain is…pain…loneliness…tears…that's what it is." Was she crying? Namine couldn't tell. She was too used to the rain and the tears to notice them anymore. "Tears from angels that fell from heaven…"

"Rather poetic don't you think?" He laughed, a deep infectious laugh that rang through her soul. He reached out, messing with her sopping wet hair. "So you think the angels cry for your pain? You think God cries for you? God doesn't cry for you, he's just pissing on everyone today. That's all it is, he just pisses on everyone. Don't think you're special." Even as he said such hurtful words, he smiled. "But today you're lucky because I'm taking you to somewhere sunny…no rain there. You can stay with us, so long as you work for it."

"No more rain?" Namine noticed something new in her voice. It took her a few moments to find the word for it: Hope. That faded light within that was now glowing like dying embers, sparked to life by his words.

"Yes, no more rain." He repeated with another laugh. "Kid you're too innocent."

Innocence. Innocence that had been lost to the rains, lost to the storm clouds and the thunder that drowned all sounds. There was new found hope, new found innocence that bubbled and churned inside her sky blue eyes. The sky…the skies were clearing up, the storms retreating to lands unknown so that the sun could finally break through and shine. Shine like there was no tomorrow only there was, there was a tomorrow and time would finally pass, would march forward and change. The rains would stop, things would change and so the sun would shine and bury the innocent girl's heart with warmth. The first warmth she'd ever felt in her blank, nonexistent memory. The first warmth from a man who had only darkness on his side. The warmth of darkness gave way to the warmth of light. This light, this warmth, it would all be captured and remembered, even the rain. The rain would be remembered and held tight.

The rain had stopped and yet she hadn't even noticed, focused only on wild, cunning eyes.


End file.
